Get Your Own Cub!
by Detouredbe
Summary: The Once-ler and Pipsqueak had a strong bond at one time, but perhaps not everyone was pleased about it. On another note, Pipsqueak and the animals in general need to be character options.
1. Chapter 1

**One of the aspects of the 2012 adaptation of "The Lorax" which I most admire is the Once-ler's bond with the little Bar-ba-loot, Pipsqueak. Not that it was heavily explored, to be sure, but it leaves no doubt of its presence and is an especially endearing subtle detail to the storyline – it admittedly reminds me of an inter-species relationship of which I am part. **

**Anyway, somehow the idea of their bond causing a rift between Pipsqueak and his father developed in my mind, and became so coherent that I felt the need to assemble it in written form, thereby resulting in this fanfic. For clarification I've made note of a couple of things I'll explain at the end.**

**Copyrights are those of Dr. Seuss, Universal, and Illumination Entertainment.**

There was no denying, the animals inhabiting the lush Truffula forest were enamoured with the Once-ler. Right from the start, when he first walked among them, they'd been drawn to him inexplicably. And with the help of those sweet fluffy things he always had in large supply, the guy was literally an animal magnet. There was no reason for any of them to dislike him, was there?

Well one did, actually. One of them quite frankly resented the wiry human's presence. Not because of his having chopped down a tree the very day he arrived here; he'd promised their guardian, the Lorax that he wasn't going to take that approach to making – whatever he said that thing was – ever again. No, that wasn't it. And not because he had such fine, exotic treats to lavish the animals with seemingly endlessly – what Bar-ba-loot ever worried about their weight anyway? So that wasn't it either. No, the issue this Bar-ba-loot had with the man was strictly on a personal scale, the result of a slight the Once-ler had no idea he'd even committed.

Why on earth was his little cub so obsessed with this strange creature? _Everyone_ enjoyed those sweet things he didn't care to remember the name of, he enjoyed them himself, if he could admit it. Even the Lorax liked them. But that did not compel the other animals to crawl up the guy's legs, or snuggle up with him, or try to sneak away with him whenever he went off to that human settlement he always claimed he needed to go to with that whatever-it-was. At least, not to the extent young Pipsqueak did. And heaven forbid he ever actually managed to tag along with the man all the way out there; he'd given his parents, not to mention the Lorax and the rest of the forest, enough of a fright that night when they'd tried to set the Once-ler adrift in the river.

There you go. No one _else_ tried to pull a stunt like that! What had the cub been thinking? He and his mate had confronted him about it later that night, when the ensuing fiasco had been brought to a thankfully satisfactory close, but all they'd gotten out of him on the matter was a dreamy-eyed look and a sheepishly said, "I just thought he might get lonesome. He and his sweet white things."***** As if that was any excuse for a young one endangering themselves like that.

It didn't stop there, though. Seriously, the cub did everything he could to be near the human. Following him wherever he went, as long as he was in the forest, mimicking his actions, demanding his attention if he seemed lost in his thoughts or something. All things a cub should do with their father, right? Not what they're supposed to do with a stranger with strange habits who's suddenly waltzed into the picture! To top it all off, the Once-ler quite _obviously_ appreciated Pipsqueak's attention! Picking him up and cuddling with him, letting him help him when preparing those flat, stacked-up things he made a lot of the time, clowning around with him on that musical box-thing with the strings and the stick on top. He did that sort of stuff with others as well, but always there was one particular cub hanging around. Always, there was a poignant gleam of affection in their eyes, shared only between each other. It was not just the father Bar-ba-loot's imagination.

In a way, he couldn't blame the Once-ler, however. Call it a father's vanity, but Pipsqueak _was_ the sweetest, most adorable baby animal in the whole forest. It was the man's self-centred disregard of protocol. You simply do not take a child's affection away from their parents. It's just not done. And yet there he was doing just that, all smiles, and goo-goo eyes, and those cursed white fluffy treats. It was just disgusting!

His mate tried to tell him time and time again that he was overreacting. The Once-ler most certainly showered all of the babies with affection, and played with all of them, not just with Pipsqueak. Their cub most certainly still looked up to and loved his own father. There was nothing to worry about. He wanted to believe her words as strongly as she did, to be sure. If it was just a simple matter of friendship, he'd have no trouble with the Once-ler at all. The problem with that was, regarding the relationship between the human and the cub as a harmless friendship was all too clearly just wishful thinking. He was not ashamed to admit that he'd even gone so far as to enlist Pipsqueak's best friend, Lou, to "sort of" observe the way the two behaved around each other, when he was not there to do it himself, and although the chubby Bar-ba-loot didn't really grasp the significance of the problem, what he diligently reported back did not appease the older Bar-ba-loot one bit.

His worst fears were actually confirmed just earlier today, when the lean man had returned after yet another attempt to do whatever he wanted to do with that object had not worked out. From what he had picked up, the man's attempts to interest the others like him in this object resulted in their putting a lot of food to waste by pelting him with it, along with a few other undesirable manners of treatment. Perhaps it was a bit shameful, but he just couldn't feel as sorry for him as the other animals did. The idea of smashing food all over someone when it should be eaten instead did not appeal to him, of course, but he couldn't pity him more personally when the first to come a-comforting was always a particularly cute little cub with a white patch on his chest...

Well, today it so happened, the fellow tried to lighten the mood by taking that music device of his and singing for the animals. Gritting his teeth, the father would admit it was a pleasing sound. Not quite as good as it had been before, but apparently someone launched an attack on the device as well, and he'd had to put it back together again. Some scars had to remain, of course.

As usual, to his irritation, there was his son, perched on one of the fellow's thighs and bobbing his head along with the melody he was currently playing with that device, which was leaning against his other leg. His mate took his paw in hers and smiled reassuringly at him, but it couldn't ease the jealous turmoil in his mind. Then, to make it worse, it happened.

Standing and waddling up onto the man's stomach, Pipsqueak wrapped his tiny paws as best as he could about the neck of device, poking his head around to look expectantly up at the Once-ler, and asking, "May I try, Papa?"

Papa? PAPA? Since _WHEN_? Even Pipsqueak's mother was shocked by this, and let go of her mate's paw, both of hers raised to her hanging jaw. The Lorax, nearby, noticed what was going on, and muttered something about how this would not go down well, but of course the Once-ler had not a clue what the cub just called him, did he? The Lorax had had to explain to the animals early on, that the lack of response anyone got out of the Once-ler when they tried to make conversation was because humans had a pitiful inability to understand the speak of any creature that wasn't human.

Well, this Bar-ba-loot was not about to let a dumb, peculiar, linguistically handicapped being steal his parental title from him! Before his mate could stop him, he was storming right over to his rival, teeth bared and growling in an impressively intimidating way for a creature his size.

/

The Once-ler was rightfully caught off guard by the aggression this adult Bar-ba-loot was displaying before him out of the blue. If his memory served him correctly, this looked to be the same one who pounced on him viciously that day when he first "moved in". What was the deal with this guy?*

Judging by his lack of change in behaviour at the offer, the Once-ler had to guess it wasn't marshmallows he was after. Unable to come up with anything else, he rose cautiously to his feet, eyes trained on his adversary, and instinctively holding his guitar up in front of him. Realizing seconds later that he really didn't want the instrument to suffer yet another beating just to defend him, he had only just enough time to lean it against the outer wall of his tent and take off running before the angry animal could catch him.

Little Pipsqueak was left sitting on the ground beside the guitar, staring in wide-eyed bewilderment at the sight of his father chasing the Once-ler around the skinny trunk of a Truffula tree. It was just a slip of the tongue! He'd surprised himself when he said it! But why was his father blaming the Once-ler?

Now the human was trying to hide himself by pasting against the trunk of a nearby tree, the angry father still focused on chasing him around the first one. He was slim enough he could almost pull it off, but it still didn't take his would-be attacker long to comprehend the change in circumstance, and in no time the rival was cornered once more.

"All right, all right, break it up!" The Lorax finally decided to intervene. Barring the Bar-ba-loot off from the Once-ler, he said, "Leave the Beanpole alone. He meant no harm by it."

"Wait, what?" Said Beanpole lowered his arms from their previously huddled position, simultaneously lowering the leg he had crooked up in front of the other. Having no reason to suspect "he" did not refer to him in this case, he wondered what they thought he'd done wrong this time? And since when did _Moustache_ start defending him?

Neither the forest creature nor the guardian were paying any attention to the human's question. Pipsqueak's father seemed to growl something in bitter resignation, before shooting the man a death glare (adding to his confusion), and stomping off, collecting his perpetually saucer-eyed son, who seemed to look back at the Once-ler apologetically, and rejoining his mate before clearing the scene.

"Ummm... okay, mind if I ask what on earth just happened?" The Once-ler turned to the Lorax.

"Nah, it's nothing, Beanpole," the forest guardian shrugged casually. "Just a – a Bar-ba-loot thing." He then walked off, signalling the other animals to go on their way and leaving the Once-ler to wonder inconclusively about the unanticipated events of the last few minutes.

/

"I'm a bad father, aren't I?" Pipsqueak's father asked, staring out into the night. Pipsqueak was, quite predictably, crashing in the Once-ler's tent with most of the other animals and the Lorax. His mother and father were about the only creatures still outside.

"Of course not, dear," she soothed, patting her mate's paw. "You're a wonderful father, and Pipsqueak loves you just as much as ever."

"No, no he doesn't," the male tensed. "It's all about that man now. He never wants to do anything with anyone else! Not even his own... family!" he snapped, trying to incorporate his mate into the issue so it seemed less about himself.

"Didn't you ever become fixated on a new friend when you were a cub?" the female smiled.

"I never called any of them 'Papa', if that's what you're getting at!" The title combined with that memory still left a bitter taste on his tongue.

His mate fell silent. In all truth, she had nothing to say on that. What explanation could she offer when Pipsqueak himself hadn't been able to name the reason why he addressed the Once-ler as his Papa?

"And I never told my father I wished they were in his place," the male muttered darkly.

The mother looked consolingly at her mate. Things had quickly escalated when he'd taken their son to task on the matter; father demanding a reason of son, son struggling unsuccessfully to handle the job of pinpointing his own motives while also tiptoeing his way through it. It ended in Pipsqueak being accused of actually _wanting_ the Once-ler as his father instead (as weird as that would be), and Pipsqueak, now frightened and emotionally hurt by his actual father's loss of temper, tearfully replying, "Well... maybe – maybe I do! At least he's not mean like you are!" He had then scampered away, back to the human's abode, his stunned parents not having the heart to pursue him.

After a few moments of quiet, Pipsqueak's mother observed the grey clouds rolling in above, and suggested they head inside. Her mate scoffed. It wasn't as if the animals really needed to seek shelter with the Once-ler; they'd always gotten by before his arrival just fine. Granted, it was far more comfortable in his home – drat those humans for really knowing how to build a nest – but the father Bar-ba-loot had made up his mind. He wouldn't deny his precious mate and son that comfort if they wanted it, even knowing whose proximity it meant they were in, but he himself would have to be dragged by every other inhabitant of the forest before he'd set paw in that tent again.

His mate thought his behaviour immature, deep down, but she understood that he may need time alone, and so, with a final note about the possibility of changing his mind, she quietly snuck her way inside.

Pipsqueak's father remained where he was until the first few drops began to spit around him. Grumbling, he got up and set off, deciding on a tree in which to seek coverage. Thoughts of his argument with Pipsqueak plagued him long after finally settling down, however, and while his jealousy and resentment for the Once-ler had not diminished, he could only hope that his irrational reaction had not completely vanquished the bond between himself and his son.

**AN: The dialogue of the Bar-ba-loots is simply supposed to be their language read as English, to show that these sections of the story are focusing on their perspectives. Also, in my headcanon the Bar-ba-loot who lunges at the Once-ler before the animals are inadvertently introduced to marshmallows is Pipsqueak's father, because he strikes me as looking similar to one of the ones to whom the Lorax asks if Pipsqueak can swim, in the river scene.**


	2. Chapter 2

**There. I finally got the second half of this story finished. Took longer than I expected because arranging all the concepts I wanted to explore/develop within required a good deal of work. Anyway, where I found in hindsight that the first chapter had a bit of a comical edge to it, this one is undoubtedly quite depressing. But when you consider what the Once-ler did, and what resulted from it, what else can you expect?**

Pipsqueak's father was about the only inhabitant of the forested valley aside from the Lorax who had not lavished the Once-ler with unconditional trust, and actually trumped the guardian when it came to not really liking the guy either – though of course that was not one of those things that was ever stated out loud. It was something one just _knew_.

He suspected the man was bad news when he started unloading his wagon the day he arrived. The vote was unanimous that there was nothing to be pleased about, when those threatening nick-knacks of his had been flung here and there, he not even seeming to regard what he was doing. The father Bar-ba-loot, however, had been the first to attack him; he was not going to let this odd animal endanger his son or his mate, or any of their friends while they were at it. And yes, those white sweets the Once-ler presented as a peace offering had distracted everyone, but that "forgive and forget" vote would not be made unanimous on just a bold-faced bribe.*

Obviously the Bar-ba-loot's infamous jealousy of the Once-ler's increasingly paternal bond with Pipsqueak had denied that mistrust a fair chance to wind down with the passing of time. It didn't help that Pipsqueak remained decidedly embittered towards his father after that day no one in the little family wanted to discuss. Not that Pipsqueak could ever behave in a bitter way, of course, he was just too sweet, no pun intended. It remained so, however, that since that day there had been a palpable coolness between father and cub, more-so from the latter; where before he'd just been too focused on his new idol to pay regard to his father, he now purposely sought to avoid him. To say that hurt was like dismissing a lightning strike as no more damaging than stubbing one's paw on a rock.

He'd asked over and over in his mind why the man had to spend so much time with the cub. There was that nice little woman with the curly brown hair, who sometimes visited him, and whom he acted ostensibly flirtatious with; why couldn't they just take each other and have their own offspring?* Why did the Once-ler feel the need to take Pipsqueak away like that? Why?

Still, no matter how many unanswered questions, or how many awkward persuasions went into it, as far as father and son were concerned, it was as if Pipsqueak had indeed drifted away with the Once-ler that night, and never returned. At least his relationship with his mother had not suffered through it all, but then, why would it? She had never been abrasive about the matter, she was always somehow able to be understanding and patient with their son, always somehow balancing supporting his friendship with the Once-ler with encouraging his friendship with his own father. But the male just could never be like that. Where his mate was prepared to make the best of most situations, he was just too impassioned about what he perceived as unfair. This most certainly was unfair. And the worst part was, as he came to find out, this wasn't even the level at which it was set to stop.

He could almost laugh derisively at that phrase, "How bad can I (possibly) be?", which seemed to have become one of the Once-ler's preferred mantras over time. "How _unfair_ can I possibly be/make this situation" was by far more appropriate. Hypnotizing the flesh-and-blood segment of the ecosystem into fawning over him hadn't been enough for the man. Nor had stealing the love of a couple's precious only son. No, these had only been sugar-coated implications on his part, his ways of worming himself into a comfortable establishment in the forest, so he could focus on what had really been important to him all along.

Even more outrageous was his brilliant way of copping out of the solemn oath he'd taken, the Lorax and so many of the animals bearing witness, that he would not cut down any more of the trees in the forest just to make those – _thneeds_. Remembering all these funny names of these funny things the Once-ler had brought into their world with himself had never been a priority for Pipsqueak's father, but some had inevitably succeeded in penetrating his memory. Anyway, so the guy promises, hand on heart, that _he_ won't do it any more, and then calls his family in to do the dirty work for him. _Very_ clever.

The Lorax had many times explained, or tried to explain, to both the Once-ler and to the forest animals about the significant consequences of deforestation, but unsurprisingly the human had turned a deaf ear to the lecturing, and the other animals had been too naive to take it fully to heart. Not that they completely disregarded it, but they refused to believe the nice young man would ever go so far as to cause a natural disaster just to fulfill these ambitions of his which remained a foreign concept to them.

Well, Pipsqueak's parents had listened, at least. It wasn't like they could combat the circumstances, but riding with them was as easy as it could be when they knew what to expect. Even when the others finally clued in and began to follow suit, however, it was not long before things got so out of hand that "riding with it" could not keep them going much more. The more trees disappeared, the less food and shelter was available, which was especially hard on the Bar-ba-loots. Then there was the smogulous smog clogging the atmosphere, and the schloppity-schlop and gluppity-glup poisoning the water, which were especially hard on the Swomee Swans and Humming Fish, but every blow this "factory"-thing of the Once-ler's delivered the forest sent everyone within reeling.

Even while he, his family, and his friends were being slowly starved, dehydrated, and suffocated to death by the greedy, cold hearted man who'd pretended to be their friend long ago, what infuriated Pipsqueak's father most was that their son so frankly refused to see the man for what he really was. As this business of his had progressed, he'd gradually ceased to devote portions of his time throughout the day to Pipsqueak or any of the animals. No one could remember the last time they'd seen one of those white treats, or the last time the Once-ler had engaged in a comical song-and-dance routine with any of them. He didn't need to hold their interest any longer, and so they held no more for him either. But not in Pipsqueak's eyes. Not for the longest time.

/

When it came to possessing an irrational optimism, Pipsqueak easily beat the Once-ler at his own game. It perplexed the cub that as time went on, the other animals developed a steady disdain for their friend, the occasional cursing of his name being uttered as things grew worse for them. It was enough of a shock that such rage could be sparked amongst the normally blithe creatures, so rare was the occasion on which that occurred. But to direct their ire against the man they'd always had so much fun with!

He usually avoided others when they were saying such things, and so remained under the idealistic impression that it was not at the permissive hand of the Once-ler himself that the disastrous death of their forest was taking place, for much longer than most. The Once-ler hadn't forgotten about them, in his belief, it was just that this thing he was doing kept him so busy he couldn't come out to play with them. Pipsqueak didn't like that, but he could understand it. Work had never been an overwhelming occupant of the creatures' time, but occasionally it had to be done, and during those times the policy was "work before play". _Obviously_ for humans work somehow took up a lot more time, and the Once-ler should be pitied, not condemned for that!

Pipsqueak was actually kind of glad that the Once-ler was away from them so much of the time, indoors more often than not. Maybe just like how his old home had kept out the rain long ago, this gigantic building he now seemed to live in kept out the filth in the atmosphere? Pipsqueak didn't understand how this horrible decline in the region's habitability came about, but it was bad enough seeing all his friends and family out here suffering with him. He wouldn't want the Once-ler to be subjected to this as well.

He worried about the human almost obsessively. He seemed to be the only one who still cared about him. No one else wondered if the man was faring any better than they were. _Was_ the building able to protect him from the smog? What if it wasn't, and the Once-ler had to live in fear of merely _sleeping_, should he choke to death in the process? Was he as hungry as the animals were? What if those marshmallows and pancakes had disappeared along with the fruit from the trees? The animals tried to support each other as a community as best as they could, with whatever they could scrounge, but the thought of their coldly ignoring the Once-ler's needs, while he may be wasting away from hunger like the rest of them angered Pipsqueak.

The little cub longed to break away from the crowd, just long enough to head to that factory and check up on his old friend, and hopefully bring a ration of food to him if it could be obtained. His parents kept him close by at all times, however, and even when he tried to bring it up with Uncle Lorax,* the guardian had advised him against it. That befuddled him, as he was certain that, in his own grumpy way, the Lorax liked the Once-ler deep down, but even he was shunning him now?

"He's doing just fine, believe me," the Lorax had said, an unpleasant undertone to his words, gently as they were spoken for the sake of the cub.

"Well then, why can't I go see him?" Pipsqueak had probed. "I miss him, Uncle Lorax. And he must miss all of us too, it's been so long!"

"...Well, maybe a part of him does," The Lorax muttered after a while, glancing wistfully in the direction of the factory. Obviously that side to his nature had fallen out of power, if it still survived at all. Common sense would dictate that the little cub should be brought to realize this, but the guardian was reluctant to burst his bubble; in the first place Pipsqueak probably wouldn't believe him, and may even throw a tantrum if an attempt to persuade him that there was even a moderately ominous bone in the Once-ler's body was made. There could only be troublesome repercussions as a result of that. Secondly, despite the impracticality he didn't like the thought of taking away the cub's mental innocence like that. In a crazy way, Pipsqueak's view of the human through metaphorical rose-coloured glasses seemed one of the last standing remnants of what had once been. He _would_ have to face the facts eventually, but for now at least, the Lorax felt it could wait.

"Uncle Lorax?" Pipsqueak asked when the ancient creature seemed to have trailed off.

"Look, it's just not a good idea, Pip," The Lorax finalized.

"Okay, but don't you still see him sometimes?"

The Lorax sighed. "Yeah, but not as often as I used to. It just... never seems to change anything."

Pipsqueak sensed the Lorax wasn't telling him something, but he stayed focused on his purpose. "Well, if you go see him again, will you tell him I said hi?"

Chuckling, the old creature ruffled the cub's fur. "Yeah, I'll tell him that."

"And give him this?" Pipsqueak then handed him a somewhat wilted fruit from one of the still uncut trees. It was the first one he'd acquired in a terribly long while, and his stomach clenched at the thought of giving it away, but it was only fair that the human be fed as well.

The guardian was wide-eyed with disbelief for a moment, but then rolled his eyes. "Bar-ba-loots," he muttered, but fondly, and then said, "You're a real trooper, Pipsqueak, but you need to eat that yourself. And don't worry about Beanpole, he gets more than enough to keep him going."

As yet another pang hit the cub's stomach, he gave in and devoured the morsel himself. He could relax a bit, knowing now that his friend would not suffer from the crummies as well, but the guardian's words left him puzzled. If the Once-ler was somehow able to work around this famine, why wasn't he trying to help everyone else?

/

Pipsqueak's father never would have asked for it to turn out like this. He had wanted his son back, proverbially speaking, but not in this way. He wanted his son to be bright, healthy and chipper for one thing, like he'd been before, instead of weak, sickly and utterly devastated. He wanted him to come running into his arms with some rendition of the phrase, "I love you, Papa!", but now...

The parents had felt a repeat of their fear from the river incident when Pipsqueak had suddenly vanished from the huddled crowds of the forest creatures. They'd notified the Lorax, insisting those strong enough be organized into search parties, but he simply stated, grimly, that he knew where the cub had gone, and he'd take care of it.

They'd waited anxiously, worrying and wondering, until the Lorax finally returned with their son. At any rate, what he brought them sort of _resembled_ Pipsqueak, but the cub was a shell of himself. His father noticed, where that dreamy-eyed quality had been ever since the Once-ler had first shown up, was nothing but a blank, haggard, haunting gleam of trauma. It was a terrible sight on such a young little thing. What had happened?

Pipsqueak's mother immediately embraced her son, trying to coax an explanation out of him, but the cub remained wordless, barely even acknowledging the warmth of her hug. The Lorax then explained the gist of it to them: Pipsqueak had determinedly set off for the factory, desperate to see the Once-ler again. As it happened, the Once-ler was engaged in an interview with the press about the approach his factory took to the maintenance of the ecosystem, and he'd been suavely brushing the issues under the rug, which meant that he was acting like he wasn't letting the problem get out of hand when in fact he was, as they knew.

Pipsqueak, finding him, had joyously rushed over to him, arms open to hug the man around his ankles, but the Once-ler, upon taking notice, merely used him for his argument, placing him before the press and exaggeratedly fondling him to assure them he "cared" for the creatures. As soon as they were convinced, he'd dropped Pipsqueak like a hot brick, which meant he'd just put him down and forgotten about him.*

Pipsqueak was confused, naturally, and so pursued the Once-ler back into the factory, hoping to regain his attention. He'd gotten as far along as the hallway leading to the Once-ler's office before finally catching up with the man and tugging on the leg of his trousers. The Once-ler was at first irritated, and snapped an impatient "What?", which had stunned the cub. As recognition set in, he seemed to receive the cub more warmly, until his mother had entered the hall, returning to her station after a short break. She'd freaked out at the sight of one of the "filthy varmints" from the outside having gotten into her son's nice clean factory, and insisted he be thrown out. After a moment's hesitation, her son had complied, and seen to Pipsqueak's removal from the premises himself.

Back in the present, Pipsqueak seemed to come around as the heartbreaking climax of the account was reached, and started to well up. The Lorax, seeing this, hurried things up by simply stating that the Once-ler's dismissal had been more than a _bit_ shy of apologetic. That was when the Lorax had found Pipsqueak, still standing outside, still trying to call out to the Once-ler. The only response they waited around long enough to hear was that cruel mother of his telling one of her other sons to get out a rifle if that racket didn't stop. The guardian had quickly ushered the cub away at that point.

Pipsqueak whimpered as salty beads of water tumbled from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, kid," The Lorax said, sadly. "I tried to warn ya."

"Oh, Pipsqueak," his mother sighed, her heart aching for her son.

His father stood by, taking it all in. The horrible way his son had been treated, how his tender love and trust had been brutally smashed into smithereens, the soul-crushed cub he'd been reduced to. Anger boiled inside the adult male; if he'd only resented the Once-ler before, he downright hated him now. If he had to choose, he could have pressed on with the jealousy of knowing his cub favoured the man over him, but for the man to treat a little one who loved him so dearly like a manifestation of the gluppity-glup his own factory was responsible for inflicting on the valley! The worst part was, there was not a thing he could do about it. If they'd treated a baby cub so harshly for coming onto the premises, it would end no better for an adult, especially one lusting for vengeance.

No. There was _one_ thing he could do. And if he cleared his mind enough to really think about it, it was the only thing he, as a father, needed to do.

As Pipsqueak buried his face into his mother's chest, letting the fractures of his heart out, he felt a paw come to rest gently on his shoulder, from behind. Raising his head, he turned around and peered at his father's face. There was none of the anger he'd so desperately evaded the sight of all this time, none of the tension. Just sorrow and sympathy, and the offering of fatherly compassion. And with that the wall of ice was ploughed down. The cub softly pulled out of his mother's arms, wrapping his own around his father. The Lorax and the mother both smiled, sadly but surely, glad that at least one of the rents which had been formed by the Once-ler's enterprise was now on the mend.

That night, as had come to be the norm, there was a tear-jerking sound of crying baby animals from all throughout the youth of the Bar-ba-loot, Swomee Swan and Humming Fish population. The crying of sick, hungry children, desperately trying to choke each breath they could get from the stifling air. The one cub who had never cried in all of this despair, the one who'd brave faced it all based on a fantastic perception, now pierced the heavy atmosphere with wailing which made the rest seem a c_ommedia dell'arte_ performance. But tenderly, his father clung to him throughout the night, consoling him to the best of his ability.

/

All the animals felt for the heartbroken little Bar-ba-loot. Even in the midst of the distraught bind they were in, his endearingly blind cheerfulness had been, for a lot of them, the one thing that kept them going.

He never spoke about what happened at the factory, and if it hadn't been for the Lorax, even his parents wouldn't have known. But it was all too clear, with or without the details, that whatever had taken place, something in him died that day. Once happy, playful, adventurous and outgoing, he was now meek, sombre, and seemed unable to bear the thought of straying away from the others. The further into the heart of his circle of family and friends he was embedded, the better.

Compared to the others, Pipsqueak met the news that the final tree had been whacked with a blunt numbness. Even though he'd come to realize the connection between the removal of the trees and the failing health of the environment, he'd simply bowed his head and taken both his parents' paws in his. As if they needed even more comforting than he did. At least that much of the Pipsqueak they loved so well was still alive.

When the Lorax informed the animals that they needed to evacuate the land in search of more promising grounds, Pipsqueak took the dismal news with an admirably mature resolve. When the animals began their nomadic trek out of the wasteland they'd once called their flourishing home, passing by the vile factory, he did not even glance up. The sting of that memory would never leave him, but he didn't want to risk tearing up at a time when he needed to be strong for his family.

He forced himself to ignore the Once-ler, standing nearby the stream of animals, staring on. The Lorax was explaining to him about the animals' departure. He was calling out; Pipsqueak gathered he was calling to his donkey, Melvin, who had sided with the forest inhabitants. Then, he heard his name called.

Reluctantly, he acknowledged the man he had cared so much for. Hadn't he hurt him enough? Oh. He was offering him a marshmallow. Just a bribe. His father was right. It sure looked good, and it made his mouth water the more he stared at it, but what would it be saying if he accepted it? That all was forgiven? But it wasn't. The Once-ler had lied to him, and had then cold-heartedly shrugged him off when the deceit held nothing more for him. Pipsqueak would _never_ forgive him. Never.

Forcefully disregarding the hurt on the man's face at his rejection, which he may have seen was indeed sincere had he looked back long enough, Pipsqueak turned away, never to set eyes on the human again. As the man and his detestable monstrosity of a building shrank away with the growing distance, Pipsqueak made his way to his parents through the crowd, having drifted away a bit through focusing solely on the pattern of putting one paw in front of the other. Catching up with his father, he grasped the older Bar-ba-loot's paw in his, looking up at him from the side and smiling quietly. His father returned the gesture and tightened their grasp. The Once-ler had taken many things away from them, but the one thing he could not steal was the bond of father and son.

**The end.**

**AN: And that is that. I misted over, myself, while I was writing the last two sections of this chapter. Perhaps I should elaborate on those asterisks, to perk myself up again:**

**1. Of course, we the audience know the Once-ler grabbed the marshmallows by mistake, but in Pipsqueak's father's eyes it was a calculated attempt to win everyone over.**

**2. That was simply a cutaway insert to reinforce the choice of title for this fanfic, but for those interested, the woman I spoke of is supposed to be Grammy Norma. I am one of those who ship the Norma-ler pairing; it just makes sense to me.**

**3. I figured that since the Lorax referred to himself that way when trying to rescue Pipsqueak, that the cub would come to address him in like manner.**

**4. You may perhaps have guessed that this concept comes from part of the montage from the musical number, "How Bad Can I Be?" I thought there might be an interesting back-story behind that specific scene, and so tried my hand at it.**


End file.
